The very same kind she’d seen smeared on the war eagles’ injuries earlier.
‘It smells something dreadful, but it takes the pain away entirely. Ehvermage-crafted. Helps the servants, when we spend too long scrubbing floors. I’m only nineteen, and I swear I’ve worse knees and knuckles than my nan. She died at forty-three. It’s quite old for a Sacred, these days.’
Ezer realized, suddenly, that if she was a servant … it meant this woman wasn’t a Knight or a Scribe.
She was a Null.
Sacred-born, with no magic at all. Born to do nothing but serve.
Without a word, Ezer unscrewed the lid on the salve – and nearly choked on the smell of it. It was like rotten milk left too long beneath the sun. But she dipped a finger into the greenish substance anyway and spread it across the bridge of her nose.
It felt warm at first, like she’d traced a line of hot water down her face.
But then it cooled – so rapidly, it felt like ice.
The relief was instantaneous. She hadn’t realized how bad it hurt until the pain was gone.
‘Thank you,’ Ezer said, handing her back the tin.
‘Keep it,’ the servant said. ‘I’ve a feeling you’ll need it more than me in the coming days.’
Something about that made her stomach twinge.
Still, it was the first time anyone had done something trulykindfor her in a long time.
Longer than she liked to admit.
‘I can get more,’ the young woman said, and smiled. ‘No shortage of mages here. No shortage of penance marks, either.’
She wasn’t certain whatpenance markswere, but if it required the salve, it couldn’t be good.
‘Izill Brezevayne.’ The young woman held out her small hand for Ezer to take. ‘And … your name?’
‘Ezer,’ she said. ‘Just Ezer.’
Izill smiled. She had a natural sort of beauty, disarming with her mouse-brown hair and freckles scattered across her cheeks and the bridge of her nose.
‘Lovelyname, Just Ezer. Now I need to thankyou.You’ve earned me sixteen silver coins. They’ll get me plenty of fun on Absolution.’
Ezer blinked. ‘And why would that be?’
‘Because,’ Izill said, as she pulled her knees to her chest and began to chew on her thumbnail, ‘the other servants wagered it would only last for two. But I had the winning bet. You’ve been asleep for three days.’
‘Three days?’Ezer yelped.
Izill shushed her, glancing nervously over her shoulder. ‘Runic stasis,’ she said, and pointed to Ezer’s wrist, where a mark she hadn’t noticed before now sat like a fresh scar on her skin. It was white, like a rune whose power had already faded. ‘It was ordered by the King himself.’
Ezer felt sick at the sight of it, at the mention of the King.
Someone hadmarkedher … to knock her unconscious?
‘But why?—’
Izill shushed her again. ‘You’re loud enough to wake the gods. I’m not supposed to be here long, but sometimes … well, it’s nice to take a moment. Now, keep it down,’ she whispered, ‘unless you’ve the skill to fight a cranky war bear, and that’s the best way I can describe Zey when she wakes even oneminutetoo soon. But of course, it looks as if you’ve fought something greaterand survived. Beyond the raphon, I mean.’
So, she knew.
Did the others?
